Binary Swan

For better or worse the material possessions that surround me contribute to how I construct my identity. They tell the story of the type of person I am, the type I person I have been and hint at the paths I may one day walk down. Books wedged up against videogame cases meet clothing strewn across my futon bed and the university degrees hanging next to an old 3 hour parking sign are all contained in my bedroom but are themselves containers of a different sort. They hold the undefinable elements of my personality, they are vessels of memories. Looking at Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in my hands I conjure up not only the story it tells, but the time I spent reading this book, two lazy afternoons at work, and how that has influenced my thoughts on counter culture, a certain moment in history and the writing of fiction. This one item holds with it an experience from my life but also the means in which I define my future experiences, how I construct and internalize my personal narrative.

If someone every told me that they play Torchlight for the authored narrative I would probably end the conversation. However I will immediately follow up that statement by saying that narrative is what has kept me going back to the game over and over again. This narrative I speak of does not involve chasing down Alric or the fate of the town of Torchlight, it is about the adventurer alchemist known as Ytill. If Runic Games diverted resources away from building a compelling narrative for their dungeon crawler it most definitely went towards the loot system and as a result it creates a means by which I as the player can create a story for Ytill much in the way I create my own story, through the items that he obtains, uses and keeps.

The story of Ytill for ten levels was linked to the weapon pictured above, an unassuming sword that outclassed any other I would find for hours to come. My growth as a character was linked to this item as my slightly melee focused Alchemist became a hand to hand combat machine because of this sword. This item, real in the gameworld, held not only the gaming moments of victory over hordes of “evilplacespawn” but also the ways that Ytill grew and changed and how I internalised the rules and systems of Torchlight. In the same way that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is not just a simple book, this sword was not just an awesome weapon. Many a time I would find new weapons, half hoping to find something better but secretly wishing for the opposite. So much of my narrative thus far was contained in this sword and thus when I found the Dismantling Sparkling Staff of the Bear with it’s higher damage per second, it was a moment of sadness. It was time to move on.

Much in the way my room tells a story of who I am, the items that Ytill uses and wears define my narrative in Torchlight. They are touchstones, memory markers and a means by which we as players can construct narratives through games like Torchlight, Borderlands and obviously Diablo. It is an active process different from other cultural forms. But this is not the end of the story of the sword, it now sits in the ingenious communal storage chest in the town of Torchlight, accessible to any character I chose to create. It waits for the time when Shaggy the level 2 Destroyer is ready, the time when I can once again be reminded of what my narrative in Torchlight, and what the future might hold.

The iPhone game space has been something of a revelation for me in 2009. It represents a healthy sized market for developers and a new economic model to be solved. The relatively lower risks also means that it is a great space to fearlessly explore new and interesting gameplay concepts and unlike games on other platforms there seems to be no collective consciousness surrounding it. There are no iPhone ‘classics’ to tell me what to expect.

When I load up a disc on my Xbox 360 I will know very quickly if a game meets the standards I hold for my home console experience. When I load a new App to play on my iPhone I do not know what to expect. This completely changes how I judge the games I play. I have enjoyed Spider because it was a perfect harmony of controls, visuals and storytelling quite literally in the palm of my hand. I have enjoyed Canabalt, Drop 7 and geoSpark for the simple mechanics that are infinitely replayable and supportive of a habit of listening to videogame podcasts. I have enjoyed re-releases like Passage, Beneath a Steel Sky and Dragon’s Lair because they show that good games are evergreen.

When I first purchased my Xbox 360 all I expected was games at a level above my Playstation 2 experience, an incremental improvement. In the iPhone’s case all I knew was I would be gaming much more. I could not compare the experience to anything else previous because almost everything about it feels so completely new. It is by no means the only portable gaming platform but it is the first in a long time that does not have the burden of expectation. I am not saying that it is the new holy grail of videogames either but I am glad that this new space has opened up. I am now more than ever, a gamer everywhere and I love the idea that my next treasured gaming memory might only be one less cup of coffee away.

I’ve recently stalled in my writing here and it is because a very rather large event in my personal life combined with the fact I chose to keep playing games when I might have time to write about them. I do enjoy posting on this blog and hope to return to some kind of regular programming soon. In the meantime just visit the sites in my Blogroll. These blogs never fail in providing great insights into videogames and the culture surrounding them.

Seasons greetings

I cannot understate how important the Monteriggioni Villa is to my enjoyment of Assassin’s Creed 2. It provides a virtual home within the game. A place that anchors down all I have done and all I will do during my with Desmond as Ezio. My first encounter with the Villa and it’s surrounding wall town left me quite depressed about Ezio’s situation. Much had been lost at this point and I couldn’t help but notice the dilapidated building that was my base of operations. But Monteriggioni has developed alongside my own growth within the world that Ubisoft created.

All the items I gain in the game are linked back to this villa, on display to remind me of their existence whenever I return. My ever growing art collection is punctuated by largely empty rooms, set aside for weapons and armor. This reminds me of how I have chosen to progress in the game. The game has three collectibles items, feathers, codex pages and seals of your ancestor Assassin’s. It is not enough to simply retrieve them, they must be returned to the villa in order to contribute to that magical counter. I am reminded of the narrative justification for collecting feathers by the perpetually catatonic form of Ezio’s mother as  I deposit them in her room. I am reminded of the importance of finding all the Codex pages, a feeling reinforced when I place them amongst those already gained and as the Assassin’s seals unlock the gate to the ultimate final reward I feel motivated to explore just one more tomb.

The Villa at Monteriggioni at it’s most simple is a virtual trophy room, one which continually reinforces a holistic recollection of my gaming experience. When I equip my Condottiero War Hammer and Iron chestguard I cannot help but remember the common sword and leather armor that served me well during my early days in Florence. My anticipation of gameplay to come is increased by the memory of gameplay now past. Beyond a trophy room it is a benign region of Ezio’s world that provides for moments of practice and experimentation. With each new building upgraded, I gain access to the treasure chests that taunt me through their presence on my map. I practice many a jumping puzzle before needing those skills for the real challenges that I face in the greater world. I refine my combat reflexes without consequence or fear. The need to return to the Villa  to collect income means that whilst you might not need the safety net that it offers you are most definitely aware of it.

The open world genre can simultaneously intimidate and excite by the wealth of options for play that they offer. The inclusion of an area like the Monteriggioni Villa takes away much of the anxiety of being let loose in such a world that does not force you to participate in the authored narrative. It provides a virtual home, a safe place to exist in the world as well as an anchor for your memories of the game. This is a vital element that is missing in many open world games that often provide rich emergent experience but provide no means to hold onto them, leaving them to fade away with the next cool brush fire, assassination or car crash. When my time with Ezio is finished the Monteriggioni Villa and town are restored and alive with colour and movement. My trophy room has expanded out and every step through this place is a reminder of the things I have done and the fun I have had along the way.